


Incoporeal

by RageIncarnation13



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: (a little?), Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Background Relationships, Creepy, M/M, Minor Violence, More tags to be added, Occult, aka ray isnt the ghost, blast from the past, cult-y things, death but its an obvious death, ghost hunting tech, i watch alot of ghost adventures okay?, more peeps from rooster teeth will probably show up, spooky plot twist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:25:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8427667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RageIncarnation13/pseuds/RageIncarnation13
Summary: Are ghosts real? If so where the hell are they? These are questions Michael Jones asks himself every fucking day. He and his closest friends have hit a standstill in paranormal activity and need a new perspective, the ghosts won't hunt themselves.





	1. Somewhere out there.

**Author's Note:**

> There was a Ghost Adventures marathon on Saturday and i went a little overboard. (all equipment mentioned is real/researched. also i couldn't decide on a random location so i picked California cuz i live there) Thanks for reading! (i updated a few minor things in this chapter, like grammar errors and changing out millie's name for another character.)

Dead silence filled the nearly pitch black room that occupied the barely standing house out in fuck-all nowhere. The floorboards creaked as Gavin shifted from foot to foot.

"Michael it's been nearly an hour and not one response." He whined as he lowered his camera. "Do you think that old geezer lied about this place being haunted?"  
Michael nearly threw the ovulus on the ground in a bout of anger. When they gave up on the spirit box after twenty minutes of nothing but white noise they tried moving on to the ovulus III for a quieter session of questions but with no new luck, it stayed silent.

“Is there anyone here with us?” He spoke aloud for the third time in the last few minutes. When it stayed quiet he scowled.

"Fuck! This is the third false call this month!" He growled. He leaned against the dusty wall and puffed out a sigh.

"Wanna stop rolling?" Ray finally chimed in from the other end of the room. He tilted his camera in Michael's direction. He didn't answer he simply huffed and pulled his walkie talkie from his pocket.

"Hey, Ryan?" He said. He removed his finger from the talk button and waited a beat.

"Yeah?" The static voice answered.

"You got anything on the thermal camera down stairs?" 

"Radio silence all night" He said almost immediately.  
Michael grumbled to himself and rubbed his eye with the back of his hand while he contemplated whether or not it was worth it to try another half an hour with the ovulus. 

"Can you and jack start packing up? We're getting fucking nothing up here." He mumbled.

"Sure, no problem." And then the static cut off.  
Michael slid the walkie talkie back into his pocket. He grabbed his backpack from the ground and put the ovulus back in its case and swung the straps around his shoulders.

"Maybe next time Boi" Gavin chirped while he turned his camera off.

"Shut the fuck up, Gavin." He said, and to which the response was an indignant squawk.

"Can't win 'em all man." Ray mumbled. He clicked his flashlight on to illuminate the dingy room. They gathered their remaining equipment and started the slow, careful descent down the rickety stairs. Michael all but ripped the thermal off its tripod and powered it down while Gavin scooped up the tripod of the floor, and wound up the power cables. They pushed through the front door and rounded the corner of the rotted old porch and were greeted by the sight of jack hauling the last monitor into the van. Ryan haphazardly tossed a loop of extension cords in the back with the rest of their fragile equipment. Jeremy hopped out of the back and dusted off his jeans

"This place is old as fuck; there were more cobwebs in there than Gavin's empty head." Ray informed Jeremy with deadpan.

"Believe me the outside is just as gross and not very tech friendly." Jeremy said with a wary look at the cloudy sky that threatened rain. "If I were a ghost I'd leave too."

"We haven't had a good recording session in weeks." Gavin complained.  
He swung the door to the van open and set his camera on the seat. "I think we've done California to death, there's nothing left to explore"

"No legitimate leads here anymore." Ray added.

"Well then I guess it's time to hit the road." Ryan said as he shut and latched the rear doors. "We could always try moving on."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, "I got a call from a man out in Texas a while ago, says his property has a violent poltergeist." 

"And we could always try the older towns out there if it doesn't work out." Jeremy put in.  
Everyone looked over at Michael for the final opinion. He crossed his arms and looked back at the creaky piece of shit excuse for a house. "Pack your bags boys," Michael mumbled, "Fuck California right? Texas here we come."  
```````

Packing had not been as simple as Michael had thought it would be. Not only did they have an insane amount of very breakable, very expensive technology but they had a Mr. Gavin Free. Who insisted that four suitcases was a "reasonable amount" to bring cross country. He and Michael fought, for what felt like hours to the others, about whether or not Gavin was a fucking idiot. The fight ended when he tackled Gavin to the ground and two suitcases were disposed of.  
A panel van, unfortunately, doesn't fit six grown men so they decide that Jacks old as shit truck will do the trick to, hopefully, survive the twenty-two hour drive to Austin, Texas with the majority of the guys sanity intact. So Ryan, Ray, add Jeremy pile into the van and Jack, Gavin, and Michael hop into the rusty truck filled to the brim the duffel bags and suitcases. Without flourish they begin the long haul to the proverbial promised land.  
Countless numbers of stupid 'would you rather' questions from Gavin and plenty of Red Bull later, Jack finally pulled into the parking lot of the motel located on the outskirts of Austin. He let out a long sigh and glanced over at the two sleeping figures that lay slumped over and breathing softly. He pulled out his phone and dialed Ray's number. A few long seconds later the ringing ended and Ray's voice replaced it, 

"What's up?” a sleep coated voice croaked.

"We're here, how did Ryan's detour go?"  
There was a short silence followed by a groan, "He says 'Shut up' and that He is about twenty minutes away." 

"Okay, well I'll start unpacking." Jack smirked, "Tell Ryan not to take anymore shortcuts." He hung up and set his phone on the dash. Jack unbuckled and pushed the door open to get out and stretch. He huffed and turned to look at the two napping in the truck and let out a small sigh. He'll let them sleep, he decided as he locked the doors and headed for the motel lobby to talk to the receptionist about the reservation they scoped out beforehand.  
Gavin stirred in his shallow sleep, he finally let out a soft grunt and stretched awake. He rubbed at his neck and cringed, dozing off in a small space while sitting basically upright wasn't the most comfortable. Gavin cracked his neck and shifted his gaze over to the sleeping man next to him, who seemed perfectly content with his face leaning on the window and his auburn curls squished against his head. The brit held back a yawn as he took in his surroundings, a neon sign informed him that the establishment was 'open' despite its vacant parking lot. He looked over at the lobby just in time to see Jack making his way back to the truck.

"Oh you're awake; good you can help me carry the luggage to the room."  
Gavin let out a groan of protest and slumped against Michael.  
``````` After Ray heard jack hang up he slid his phone back in the front pocket of his sweater and leaned over to rest his head against Ryan's upper arm. He listened to the radio play softly and watched the road ahead of them quickly disappear under their tires. His half lidded eyes slowly drooped more as each second passed, though he tried to fight off the sleep for Ryan's sake.  
Ryan must have been bored out of his mind or crazy because he had declined Jeremy's offer to take a turn to drive over six hours ago. Not to mention a 'short-cut' on an old dirt road turned out to be a longer route than he had first thought and had made the blonde regret his decision. Ray was jolted out of his light sleep by a pothole Ryan had hit.  
He looked up over his skewed glasses at the man and just held his gaze for a second before letting it drop on Jeremy next to him, who was snoring softly. The street lights passed more and more often, until before he knew it they were turning into a dinky little parking lot. Ray sat up to try and stretch his arms and popped his back. The radio clock said one in the morning but fuuuuck it felt like four. Ryan pulled into a spot a couple down from Jack's truck and turned the van off. When he finally opened the door and the interior lights came on it pulled Jeremy out of his pleasant rest and he clapped his arm over his face and let out a pathetic sounding noise. 

"Up and at 'em Lil J, we're at the hotel." Ryan chided 

"Actually Ryan it's a motel," Ray said sarcastically as he scooted off the seat and out into the cool night air, "Hotels are higher class."  
Jeremy just grumbled and flung open his door dramatically. After they made sure the van was locked up properly and that the equipment hadn't tipped over on the trip they looked over and the building. It was a single story complex with at least twenty rooms maybe more. The old spackling was a fading tan and red curtains covered every window.  
There was only one other light on besides the check-in area and only one other car in the lot so Ryan decided that the only room with a light on was the others. They made their way up to the room and when they got close enough they heard a loud squawk from the other side that was followed by a loud, colorful string of cursing.

"That's them alright." Jeremy mumbled while Ryan knocked on the door. It was swung open by a very tired looking Jack, he gestured them in and explained that he had unpacked everything already and that the receptionist gave them a good deal on the conjoined rooms, then pointed at the open door that lead to a matching room. Gavin attempted waving at the group, but Michael had pinned him and was bound and determined to rip the remote from the British man's hand.

"I see you've settled in." Ryan said, cutting into their little spat.  
Gavin finally relinquished the remote in hopes of getting the angry ginger off of him while trying to wiggle his way out from under him.

"Hey! You guys finally decided to show up! Isn't the room top?" He said, voice going up a few octaves at the end.  
They did a collective once over of the musty motel room, it had two small beds and an old wooden desk with a t.v. straight out of the nineties resting on it. The carpet and bedsheets were the same dark color with multicolored squiggles and the bathroom was small and the tile was fading, they looked back down at Gavin and Michael on the ground with quizzical expressions. 

"It looks like a bad horror film threw up in here." Jeremy retorted, flopping down on the nearest bed.

"Perfect," Michael smirked and rolled off Gavin, "We need a little bad horror in our lives."  
After being freed from his vulnerable position, Gavin quickly scrambled up onto the bed next to Jeremy. 

"I can tell! This is gonna be worth it." He yawned and stretched out across the covers, "I'm so excited! I don't think I'll be able to sleep!"

"We won't be able to stay awake for the lockdown tomorrow if we don't at least get a little sleep." Jack reasoned. 

"We can sleep when we're dead!"  
````````

The group stood a few yards from a three story ranch house thirty miles outside Austin. It loomed ominously in front of them and blocked the fading light from the setting sun. The man standing near the group seemed immensely uncomfortable and kept shifting and glancing around nervously. He clearly had a problem being near the house any longer than he had to be. 

"Thank you so much for taking the time to show us out here Mr. Risinger"  
Ryan said, turning to the man. He looked over quickly as if Ryan's voice had started him. 

"Sure...uh...," He looked over at their black panel van and back at the house, "You're really going to stay in there over night?"

"Yeah, we do this all this time." Ray put in as he strode over to the end of the van to begin to set up.  
The man looked at the group again and held out a set of keys. When Ryan took them from his hand he muttered out a curt "Good luck." and quickly stalked off to his car.  
The group exchanged looks and settled their gaze on the decrepit mansion before them. It certainly was bigger than any other property they had worked on previously, and more isolated than the others as well.

"YOLO, am I right?" Ray said as he flipped on his hand held camera.


	2. It's Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are ghosts real? If so where the hell are they? These are questions Michael Jones asks himself every fucking day. He and his closest friends have hit a standstill in paranormal activity and need a new perspective, the ghosts won't hunt themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoy :) (i updated a few minor things in this chapter, like grammar errors and changing out millie's name for another character.)

The first step into the archaic building was a bit unnerving. The air seemed to be completely stagnant in the bleak halls. Paintings and knick-knacks were strewn and broken on the wooden floorboards.  
Jeremy and Jack had long since set up the folding tables outside with their monitors and audio equipment. The sun sinking behind a distant horizon was their que to start the lockdown.  
The bottom floor and basement were the easiest to get equipped, with an infrared camera in the den and motion trackers lining every other hallway, it wasn't hard to get done. The second and third floors were a different story; the ancient wood floors bowed and creaked under Ryan's footsteps as he gingerly laid mel-meters and night vision cameras. Leading the extension cords back to the van and their only power source out there was just as infuriating. Even worse, everything in the mansion-esque home was covered in a layer of dust and the furniture smelled like a mixture of mothballs and grime. Everything they touched left a little imprint in the dirt.  
After panning over the entire room, Gavin slowly moved the camcorder to rest on Michael, who was clad in a jacket, jeans and beanie for the cool evening air. Michael looked at the camera and held up a small recording device and spoke to what they all presumed was the audience.

"We are here in the old Ramsey estate thirty miles from the town of Austin, Texas. We all have these little devices called an Olympus VN-3100PC, or just a white noise voice recorder that can hear more than the average person." He said turning to look at Ray who was recording as well, "We will keep these on our person for the duration of the night."  
He grabbed his walkie talkie from his jacket pocket and spoke into it, "How are we lookin' Lil J?"

"Everything is ready to go." The radio static answered, "All the cameras and trackers are live."  
Michael looked up at the camera, "We are officially starting this lockdown, now, at 2100 hours."

"Or you could just say nine o'clock." Ray said under his breath.  
Michael took a deep breath; he had to admit he was always excited for a new house. The smell of dust and the creaky furniture made his blood race through his veins. Ever since he was a kid he wanted to show to others that other worldly entities were real; to stop being the weird kid who talked about death all the time. To have solid proof that he was telling the truth.  
He tugged his beanie down further over his curls and reached for a duffel bag not far from where the three was standing. He carefully pulled out a small round cylinder with mesh around the top.

"This is a P-SB7 spirit box; it emits a radio frequency and white noise so we can try direct communication."  
When Michael flipped the switch on the bottom of the device it roared to life. Gavin let out a soft gasp, the loud intensity of the thing always startled him.  
The noise filling the room was probably far more off-putting than the dead silence. Sitting in the dark with only the night vision of the cameras to rely on was bad enough on its own without the ear splitting sound pouring from the small device.

"Is anyone here with us!?" Michael shouted over it.  
Nothing.

"Are you still residing in this estate!?"  
Nothing.

"Anything!?"  
And when there came no reply Ray shifted his viewfinder over to glance at Gavin. Michael fumed, he couldn't get angry so early on. After all, they had just started.  
He put his hand over the mesh to stifle the noise a little so he could think of more prodding questions. Usually if you ask about something sensitive or something that correlates to the houses' past the spirits react.  
They had tried to do research on the mansion, most people who knew about it either didn't want to talk about it or had skewed information. So the group relied on censuses and coroners' records. 

"Geoffrey?" He prodded after removing his hand from the spirit box. "Geoffery Ramsey!?"  
They had come to find that when the original owner of the estate was murdered, maybe trying to contact people who Once roamed these halls would evoke something.  
There was no change in the emitted static. Michael snarled and went to try to change out devices. The loud beep and static of his radio nearly made him drop the damn thing, someone's voice was coming through his walkie talkie. He flipped off the spirit box and picked up his radio.

"Can you repeat that?" Michael huffed into the speaker.

"The camera on the second floor just toppled over." Ryan's voice replied.

"What?" 

"I said the ca-" the radio cut off when he rapidly pressed in the talk button.

"No, no I heard you...but," He sighed, "The wind maybe?"  
There was silence for a moment before Ryan's reply came through,

"It's not windy out here, and there are no open windows in the second floor bedroom."  
Michael looked over at Ray with an expression of amusement, 

"We'll go check it out."  
Gavin had a stupid grin from ear to ear and Ray had a little smirk when He switched on his flashlight. They made their way to the stairwell that led to the second floor. Ray went first, taking small, calculated steps on the rotting wood and thread-bear carpet that made up the stairs. Michael followed right behind him, trying to stare down the stairs for any imperfections that he could dodge, nearly impossible in this dim flashlight lit area. Gavin simply walked up as if a fall through broken wood to ground level was the least of his problems.  
Making it to the landing at the top of the steps relatively unharmed (if you don't count Gavin's pride, seeing as he cracked the banister nearly in half on the way up) was the first step in navigating the ruins of the estate. The paint on the walls was peeling and faded, you could see where Ryan had walked around earlier in the layer of filth covering the wooden floor. The second floor seemed dedicated to mostly bedrooms and a single office-like study. The faint light the flashlight was giving off did the home little justice.  
The trio moved carefully over to the area where they had cameras rolling. As they inched closer to the master bedroom Ray, who was leading the way, nearly ate shit when he almost tripped over the tripod lying on the ground.  
After hushed cussing from the Puerto Rican he knelt to pick it up. His face had a brief moment of confusion as the night vision camera wasn't even attached to the tripod. He felt around for it, but with little luck he stood to search further.  
After a moment they located it about a foot away from the place where it had originally rested.

"Holy shit." Gavin muttered to himself.

"There is no way in hell wind pushed it that far!" Michael was nearly bounding up and down at the discovery.  
~~~~~~~~~  
Sitting out in the middle of a waste land in front of a dirt-old house was not most people's cup of tea, but boy oh boy did Ryan love every second of it. Sure those seconds could go by endlessly without anything happening on the monitors at all, but none the less it was time filled with sitting around with Jack and Jeremy talking about an endless amount of subjects. 

"It’s a fact that there are more crashed planes in the ocean than crashed submarines in the sky." Jeremy had contributed to their discussion on war tactics. 

"I mean it's not untrue." Ryan said as he kept a close eye on their feed while still adding his input to the conversation every once in a while.

"But you ca-" He was cut off by one of the camera's views quickly collapsing onto the floor.  
He grabbed his handheld radio to inform the guys, "Uh, Michael Camera III is down." There was an unsettling silence on the line for a beat or two.

"Can you repeat that?" The reply was. Oh thank god they didn't keel over in there while they weren't looking.

"The camera on the second floor just toppled over."

"What?"  
~~~~~~~~  
The bedroom was noticeably colder than the bottom floor and the three's suspicions were confirmed when they saw the mel-meter put up in the corner was flashing. A good eleven degrees colder was a significant change for such a small distance. Ray scooped up the mel-meter and stared at the device its battery life almost completely drained.  
He threw a glance between Gavin and Michael and showed them the dim display screen.

"Something knicked our batteries?" Gavin said in a hushed tone. He focused his handheld on the device in Ray's hand. 

"Entities have to use other energy sources to manifest themselves; of course whatever sucked the life out of this battery used that energy to fuck up the camera!" Michael gushed, raising a few octaves in disbelief.  
Ray pocketed the mel-meter and continued to search the room for any other signs. When he came back with nothing to report and a shrug, they began to play back what the camera had recorded before it had taken a tumble. The screen showed nothing out of the ordinary, just the eerie green light cast by the night vision, and then it simply fell over as if it was kicked. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, no light phenomenons, no apparitions, not even a fucking bug. Just a view of a creepy bedroom at night. This bedroom had to be significant; whatever knocked over this camera had a plethora of options throughout the estate, including one near where they were standing when this one went down. The master bedroom...Geoffrey maybe? Michael thought to himself for a brief moment before returning his visage to the camcorder Ray had on.

"This might be a result of our session of questions upstairs," He told them, "There's no fucking way in hell that that was a coincidence!"

"Maybe the old loon that used to own this place kicked it over." Gavin said what everyone had concluded, but it still sounded far fetched out loud.  
Even so, the eager tension in the room grew, their first real lead in months and nothing to debunk it. It was exhilarating and frightening all at the same time.

"Should we keep asking him shit?" Ray piped up after a second.  
With a small nod, Michael switched off his flashlight, which queued Gavin and Ray to go back to night vision mode. He tugged his duffel bag off his should and rummaged through it, unsure which method would be the best to continue with. He finally decided the Olympus recorder and the Ovulus would be a manageable decision, seeing as the Ovulus doesn't make a whole lot of noise to interrupt normal audio recordings unlike the spirit box.

"Geoffrey did you knock over this camera?" The round of questions began. The whole world seemed to slow on its axis as the trio waited for an answer; the only sound was soft breathing and the faint whir of the cameras.  
The ovulus' screen lit up and displayed a single word.  
No.  
Gavin practically giggled in delight as a grin split Michael's face. 

"Why did you knock over the camera?"  
The display was bright almost immediately.  
Not.

"Is the damn thing busted?" Gavin said almost hopelessly.

"It shouldn't be, I had Ryan fix it before we left California." Ray mumbled.  
They could only stare at the screen and purse their lips in thought.

"Did you die here?"  
The pause between the question and the worried expressions aimed at each other was a long one.

"It proba-"  
BANG!  
They all jumped out of their skin, Gavin let out a shriek toppling over backwards, only to scramble to the wall. Ray clutched his chest and hurriedly whipped around to look at Michael who was simply staring wide eyed into the darkness.  
The sound of the radio static almost made them jump just as hard.

"You guys have to see this." Jeremy's voice echoed in the new silence. "Shit's kicking off in the basement."  
Michael steadied himself before responding, "Are the motion trackers going off?"

"No," there was a dramatic pause,

"Fucking get on with it Jeremy!" Ray spat into the walkie talkie.

"It was almost a full bodied apparition."  
... Shocked glances were exchanged. They began to head towards the stairwell when the Ovulus in Michaels hand lit up to display a word.  
Geoff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any questions? Any requests for rooster teeth members that should be added to this fic? comment below or message me at rage-incarnation on tumblr


	3. Its all in the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did the estate come to be haunted in the first place? Maybe a quick glance back to the first owner of the house will shed light on the subject.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay, but i'm back at it and hope to post chapters a little closer together from now on. please enjoy.  
> (a little violent in this chapter, if it bothers you this chapter is skippable but will be referenced to in the future.)

"Sir, Mr. Hullum is here to see you again."  
"Send him away."  
"But sir, this is the second time thi-"  
"I SAID SEND HIM AWAY!" Ramsey slammed his scotch glass against the wooden table he was leaning on.  
The servant scurried off quickly and quietly shut the door behind him.  
Geoffrey sat silently for a few moments, practically boring a hole into the table with his gaze. He broke the profound quiet when he threw his glass against the wall with a great force. It shattered and the glass rained down on the polished wooden floors, the amber liquid dripping onto the floor. He cupped his face, doubling over in his chair and feebly attempting to steady his breath.  
Where did everything go so wrong, he thought through the haze of alcohol, what did I do to deserve this. He shakily stood and walked as steady as he could over to a small cabinet in the corner of the room. When he swung open the door to find empty bottles and containers he practically growled. Geoffrey dug through the cabinet, pushing through more and more bottles. Every single bottle came up empty.  
"Fuck!" He yelled angrily, "FUCK FUCK FUCK!"   
He began hurling the damned things everywhere. The room was filled with the horrifying noise of breaking glass and random shouting. When the noise died down and there were no more bottles to throw, he slumped against the wall and slowly slid to the floor.   
Things had been going so well, livestock sales were up; investing in the oil drilling had gained him a substantial amount of money. Invest in the stock market they said, it will increase your income they shouted from the roof tops, the stock market crash won't affect Texas they insisted.  
Look where that got him, sniveling on the floor like a child. Drinking to forget had gotten him nowhere, he started forgetting less and less every day. There was only so much time before they would come for him. He had nothing to turn to, no one to turn to. He had driven anyone away a long time ago, with greed and bitterness.   
There came a rapping at the door.   
"Mr. Ramsey! I know you're in there."   
The man stayed motionless and unresponsive on the floor. The door flew open regardless.  
"Good lord." Was the hushed reaction to the broken glass strewn around the room. The servant came rushing in behind the intruder.  
"I'm so sorry! He refused to listen to your reque-"  
"Go on boy, we have private matters to discuss." The familiar Mr. Hullum spoke in a gruff, hushed tone.  
"You cannot just-"  
"Its fine Kerry let us be." A tired voice piped up from his position on the ground.   
After the door closed behind the boy, Hullum locked his gaze on the man resting on the floorboards.   
"What do you want Matthew."   
"You know why I'm here." He responded, gingerly toeing over the glass to take a seat near the table. "I shouldn't have to explain myself."  
"I've already told you," Geoff croaked pathetically, "you and the banks, I have nothing left. I've already sold most of my belongings and no one is willing to buy my estate."  
"That changes nothing; you still owe us a great sum of money." The man said with no infliction.  
"You speak to me will so little emotion Matthew," He spat, "You're truly heartless."  
"Do not call me that Mr. Ramsey." He monotoned, "I simply came to inform you that you have a week to pay us the money you owe."  
"A week!?"  
"Yes Mr. Ramsey a week." Hullum said venomously as he stood. "There will be grave consequences otherwise."  
"That's impossible! I've given you everything! I have nothing left!"  
"I'm sure you'll pay one way or another." The man added darkly as he made his leave.  
Sat alone in a room full of splintered glass and peace and quiet, he simply stared. Nothing surprised him anymore, nothing worried him, or at least he liked to pretend it didn't. It's hard to be apathetic when you watch the only world you've known shatter around you. The occasional lack of sleep became endless sleepless nights. The occasional drink became the ever present haze. The short temper became the rage filled boughts of breaking what little be has left. He just wanted to breathe unhindered again, to be able to feel unburdened by the constant hot breath of the bank against his neck. Geoffrey Ramsey truly had not a thing to his name.  
~~~~~~~~~~  
"I need you to hurt him, rough him up a bit" The man in the suit said. He looked very out of place in this seedy old bar, but hey, a bounty was a bounty Miles thought to himself. He tried not to give the blonde in front of him a once over, but it was hard when he was the only patron in the whole bar in an expensive suit and gaudy bolo-tie.  
"I get it," Miles grinned ominously, "break a few bones; draw some blood, same old same old."  
"Good." Hullum spoke after a while. He solemnly stood and placed a small envelope on the old, scarred table in front of him and stalked away hurriedly.  
It was more often than not that the banks in this town were out for blood. Clients holding out or failing payments, it didn't matter to him. As long as they paid him, Miles had no problem being the banks mercenary; after all he needed money as bad as the next guy. He got to his feet and slid the envelope into his jacket pocket, glancing around suspiciously for anyone happening to spot the transaction.  
Out in the street was a very different view than the musty bar room. The various stores and shops were just beginning to close as the sun began to sink behind distant mountains and the air began to chill. The people in the road began to thin out as the last soup kitchen closed up for the evening.  
If he wanted to make it to the Ramsey residence before it was pitch black out, he would have to hurry. For having been so rich, Miles thought mildly annoyed, why live so far out of town. The brunette waved down a taxi and began the long ride out to the estate.  
When the driver came to a halt about 200 yards from the home, Miles hopped out and paid the man for his troubles. He stood and waited until the cabbie was far enough away before turning to slink towards the house. The lanterns and lights still flickered from various windows, but Miles knew from what Hullum had told him that the poor Ramsey bastard was a good for nothing drunkard and that he had a house keeper that stuck around out of some odd sense of loyalty and devotion.  
The mercenary crept around the broad side of the estate and found himself near a shed that seemed to have once been used for chopped wood, but was now bare. A long piece of bent rebar laid abandoned near the opening of the shed. Miles preferred using objects from the area instead of bringing his own, less evidence trailing back to him. He slid his thick leather gloves on and scooped up the rebar and gave a few good test swings. Apparently pleased by the results he began his slow careful walk over to the back of the estate.  
As he leaned against the wall adjacent to the door and went to pull his lock picking tool out. Slipping the thin metal rod into the lock he went to twist but found no resistance.  
"What?" He whispered to himself. He pulled at the handle and found it unlocked. The crazy fuck left the door to his fancy house wide open. He listened against the frame for movement, and when he heard nothing the door swung own slowly and the hinges softly squeaked in the quiet. It shut almost as silently behind him as slunk against the wall. The house seemed so barren, the furniture mostly gone, nothing hanging from the walls, and the fireplace mantle was free of clutter save for a single photo of a blonde woman.  
The connecting kitchen was equally as empty, and every light in the house was off and replaced by oil lanterns. The electricity was off, Miles thought, as he stared at a lit lantern. He heard a thump above him and froze, and slowly cast his gaze to the ceiling above him, they must be upstairs he reasoned. The slow decent up the stairs was stressful, daring not make a sound as not to disturb the most likely angry, drunk owner. Rounding the landing to face more lanterns strewn about was unsettling. He gripped the rebar in him palm tighter listened. The sound was so soft, almost unheard. Quiet sobs came from an ajar door in the hallway. They came far apart and suddenly closer together and more rapidly and then just as quickly died down. Miles had to steel himself, sob stories couldn't affect him anymore, and he too had his share of misfortune.   
The intruder inched towards the door and readied his weapon.  
~~~~~~~~~~  
Geoff sat cross legged on the floor of his bedroom, staring through the open window and out at the star speckled sky and let another sob wrack his body. His eyes shifted down to the bottle in his hands and gripped it hard and let out another shaky breath. He clutched it against his body and held back angry cries. He felt another lash out coming as he heard a creak behind him.  
His sigh hindered by alcohol and crying, "Kerry please," he spoke quietly, "just let me be."  
Another creak.  
"I just wish to be alone." He grew angrier.  
Creak.  
He began to turn but was abruptly stopped by a heavy blow to the back. Geoffrey let out a shriek as he flipped onto his back by instinct to avoid the pain. A man he had never seen loomed above him with a metal rod held above his head as the stranger brought it down a second time on his stomach. He let out a garbled noise as he scrambled backwards.  
CRACK!   
A hit landed on his leg, and another found its target. The blows came faster now; a broken scream followed each harsh swing. The sickening thumping of a broken body and snapping bones filled the room.   
Ramsey stuttered curses in-between the pain and feebly attempted to move away. Propping himself on the wall opposite to his assailant he fought the urge to submit to his pain.  
"Hullum sends his regards." The stranger said quietly as looked down at the broken man.   
Geoff felt something come over him, a feeling that can only be described as pure rage. The anger of a man that lost everything. He used all of his remaining strength and adrenaline to lunge at the imbecile that dare attack him.  
~~~~~~~~~~  
When the drunkard leaped at him Miles didn't think twice about bringing up his weapon to defend himself. With one last swift swing it landed directly on the side of the man’s head and he almost immediately crumpled to the ground, blood running lazily from his ear.  
Wide-eyed Miles took a step back "Fuck" he muttered in shock. He poked at the limp body. He was no longer drawing breath. Shit, he thought bitterly, I wasn't supposed to kill him. He began to panic, what if the body was found? He'd have to dispose of it somehow. The basement! The merc thought, the owner surely had sort of wine cellar he could seal up. He grabbed at the corpses arms and began to drag him towards the stairs, bound and determined to rid himself of the man's body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any tips? suggestions? or just want to contribute to the writing process? you can comment below or message me at rage-incarnation on tumblr! Thanks for reading!


	4. Painful realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of Achievement Haunter launching, Who knew that this ghosty fic would coincide with the real thing. Thanks for being so patient with my updates, and thanks for reading!

Nearly tripping over each other in the process, the trio scrambled to the basement as quickly as humanly possible. Once they reached the door leading to it, they hesitated, Gavin looking nervously back and forth between the others. After a moment Michael took a deep breath and reached a shaky hand to the door knob and gingerly turned it. The heavy door swung open slowly, with a loud creak straight out of scooby-doo echoing through the room. Michael was the first one to take a step down the old stairs, glancing around carefully looking for what Jeremy had seen on the night vision camera. Ray wasnt far behind him, getting slow sweeping shots of the eerie cellar. The short staircase led to a sizeable room littered with old cracked wooden planks and rusty bits of metal. It smelled sharply of dust and something unidentifiable, mold maybe? Michael looking back at Rays camera and up the stairs at the brit standing in the door well.  
"Gavin," Ray spat in a hushed voice, "are you coming down or what?"  
He looked behind him then down at his companions, with trembling steps he followed them into the confines of the old basement. The whole room felt so cold, and the pressure the boys felt was immense.  
Still holding the Ovulus, Michael shouted into the room, "Who's there!?" The question was followed by a crushing silence "Show yourself dickhead!"  
Almost immediately a plank leaning on the wall opposite of the group crashed to the ground. Ray and Gavin gasped, Michael stayed silent as he marched over to the plank and examined the surrounding area, "You think you're fucking scary!" He yelled at the air. The Ovulus display lit up again, showing nothing but LEAVE.  
The door behind them slammed shut  
,and the mel-meter that accompanied the basement camera started fluctuating it's reading , going from 50 degrees to 74 and back before dying. A distant thud could be heard in the house, following the noise was the familiar sound of radio static.  
Ray reached for his walkie talkie, "Ryan is that you? What was that sound?" The radio continued to sputter and emit loud static "Ry! Did you leave the damn button pressed in again?!"  
More static.  
"I think the Walkies have finally kicked the bucket." He mumbled to the others. Michael had been transfixed on the Ovulus, as if staring at it would make the display illuminate again. The frustrated man looked up at the cameras trained on him, despite being blinded by the mounted lights he continued to blankly stare at his friends. Gavin was about to break Michael out of thought when a searing pain shot up his back, in a flurry of panic and cursing he dropped to the ground shrieking in pain. Michael dropped to his knees next to his writhing form and tried to keep Gav from slamming his head into something.  
"Calm down! What's wrong?" He asked  
"My back hurts like a bitch." The other man hissed through gritted teeth.  
If it were possible Michael would have rolled his eyes right out of their sockets, "Stop being such a pussy." He reached to pull up the brits shirt to see what all the screaming was about only to see three dark red lines streched angrily across his skin. He let out a soft gasp and motioned Ray to come and get a shot of the marks. Michael dropped Gav's shirt back into place and stood up quickly. The Ovulus gained their attention again with a string of STOP, LEAVE, AWAY, AWAY.  
Ray's camera shorted out, screen blacking out. "Lets get out of here,It's going to take out all our fuckin' equipment!" He spat. "We can't leave now!" Michael argued. "We've hit the jackpot!"  
The other lad flashed a look of frustration when audio recorder proceeded to die as well. He began to continue to argue that this was too valuable to flee when various objects started flying about the room. Shielding their faces and equipment they all took off for the stairs, just as the group reached the door a loud thud smashed against the other side of the only exit. Panic began to flood through Michael as he looked around frantically for another exit but there wasn't even a cellar window. Backing away from the door as the pounding from the otherside continued,Everything suddenly went eerily silent as the doorjams wood splintered and cracked, swinging open with great force after one final blow. Ryan stood at the top of the stairs panting from exertion and worry "Why the hell aren't you answering your radios!" The taller man got no answer as the lads pushed past him and dragged him along, heading for the others outside.  
Tripping over one another, the frazzled group made it to the equipment van and frantically began looking at the monitors and various readouts. Nearly all of them were not receiving signal or not on at all.  
"Fuck," Michael muttered, he turned to his friends, all of them lost in anxiety. This was too good to be true, this could be their big ticket to the top, to having a show of their own or better yet proving to people once and for all that he wasn't a nutcase. He gestured wildly as he spoke, "I KNEW IT, we just have to repair our equipment, get new batteries, and then w-"  
"Michael! Are you forgetting one small, little detail?" Jack chided, "We have no money, no house to stay here, and did you even pay attention to what the hell just happened in there!" The taller man swept a hand towards Gavin, who was still attempting to nurse his back.  
"We finally have a cash cow and you want to fucking leave over some shitty little scratches!?" The ginger nearly screamed.  
Everyone went sort of silent, the night air closing in around them like an icy ocean. None of them had come to terms that they might find something this real; Or if they would have found anything at all.  
"Well...." Gavin started quietly, "I can push on if you can."  
Everyone looked back and forth between the two, deciding if loyalty over came fear. After a beat they all nodded in agreement, all mumbling different forms of solidarity in their finding.  
"So it's settled." Michael beamed "Lets find this fucker!"

**Author's Note:**

> Any Questions? Any suggestions for new people? leave a comment or message me at rage-incarnation on tumblr


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